“Come in,” Bob invited, as he shook hands.
Big Ben followed them into the room and Bob waved his hand toward a big rocking chair near the stove.
“It’s a pretty cold day even for Maine,” he said as Big Ben sat down making the chair creak with his great weight.
“It is that, but you don’t mind it much in this dry air,” Big Ben said, holding out his hands to the heat from the stove. “By the way,” he added after a moment’s pause, “where’s Tom?”
“He left for Greenville about half an hour ago,” Bob replied.
“Hum, that’s too bad.”
“I’m sorry if you wanted to see him,” Bob returned. “Anything we can do?”
The big man thought a moment as though undecided what course to take. “Well, I dunno,” he finally drawled. “You see I kinder wanted to enter a complaint like.”
“A complaint! What do you mean? Have any our men been bothering you?” Bob put into his voice all the surprise of which he was capable.
“Kinder looks that way from the road, so to speak.”